


Gods Do Too

by garylovesjohn



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Ero Guro, Farting, Food, Gen, God Complex, Piss, Prolapse, Purple Prose, Scat, Self-Indulgent, Shit, Stench, Toilet, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garylovesjohn/pseuds/garylovesjohn
Summary: Wesker relieves himself.
Comments: 40
Kudos: 19





	Gods Do Too

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags. Nobody is forcing you to read.  
> There's no sex. Just Wesker taking a shit.

A god amongst mortals.

This was how Wesker saw himself.

However, even a god was bound by a few very mortal needs.

One might think it unbecoming of a being such as he. Some might even be shocked that he, like everybody else, had to use the restroom every now and then.

Wesker was unbothered by this basic human function. It did not remind him of his long-gone mortality. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. Relief was almost as pleasurable as partaking in all the delicacies that had led to this moment.

Lowering his black pants, he positioned himself over the squat toilet. He much preferred this position. His legs never tired and it made his regular bowel movements easier and more fulfilling. His wondrous bubblebutt, thick and muscular, adorned with soft golden fuzz, parted to expose his caved-in anus. A pinkish-brown slit encircled by stretch marks.

At first, a fart. A sulphurous hiss quickly turning wet. Not from excretion, but rather from his rectum unfurling out of his loose mancunt. Decades of training had given his veiny prolapse a massive size.

Few things filled him with more pride. He had worked hard to achieve such impressive results.

Sighing with delight, he felt his distended intestines disgorge their content. All the fine things he had eaten now a putrid, sticky brown slop. A soft, gummy log, constant and unbroken, pouring from his inside-out rectum. Nearly smooth, glistening, marbled with rectal slime and old Tyrant come. His guts tended to shed a lot from the insane amount of anal that he had.

His sex drive was as insatiable as his need for food. His body required a large amount of sustenance to maintain itself. His high metabolism quickly burned through its reserves, especially if he suffered any major injuries.

Of course, he feasted upon the most luxurious things money could buy : wagyu beef, caviar, quail eggs, truffles, smoked salmon, oysters, saffron-infused wild rice, urchin sashimi, Iberian ham, lobster. All, of course, washed down with his guilty pleasure. A nice glass of seventy years old Scotch whisky.

A pungent, powerful stream of piss came pouring out of his limp dick. Sluicing like a fountain from between the wrinkles of his hanging foreskin. Spraying the increasing amount of feces underneath.

His heightened sense of smell could find traces of his precise meals through the stench of his excrement. Although, to him, stench was a strong word. He who had breathed deep of the sweet miasma of decay. Rotting flesh, congealed blood, pitiful humans soiling themselves in fear. His brain had long conquered its instinctive aversion to filth. Putrid smells were now a mere olfactory information.

With a few clenches of pelvic muscles and a couple more wet, lengthy farts, he was finally done. In the bowl sat a massive amount of shit that only heavy duty plumbing could take care of.

The hot, slimy pile disappeared with a flush. Then the built-in bidet took care of leaving that prolapse sparkling clean. He shook the last few droplets of urine hanging from his dick. Giving it a good squeeze to make sure it was empty.

Relaxing his muscles as he stood, his rectum gently folded back where it belonged. The feeling of its freshness meeting his higher core temperature always sent a pleasurable shiver up his spine.

Now, after taking such a massive dump, he was hungry again. So much room freed from purging the content of his gargantuan guts.

He would treat himself to a little snack before lunch.


End file.
